


Do Your Job, Senju

by Thevoidbetweenus



Category: Naruto
Genre: (attempted), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Assisted Suicide, Fluff and Angst, M/M, There's generally a sarcastic tone here and it's going to get fluffier so don't worry, Tobirama is a hitman and Madara is a self destructive art professor, banter between two dumb gays, one hundred percent self indulgent folks, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/pseuds/Thevoidbetweenus
Summary: Madara hires a hitman so his little brother can collect on the insurance payout.  The hitman turns out not to be very cooperative about the whole "murder" part.  Quite disappointing.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 27
Kudos: 246





	1. Too Drunk For Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Yeah, this AU is weird and 100% self-indulgent so please don't @ me. I hope you enjoy! I may or may not add more to this, depending on the reception and my inspiration.
> 
> (Also don't mind the small edits to this chapter........i'm great at the whole continuity thing I swear!!!)

As it happens, it’s a bit difficult to hire a hitman on a professor’s budget.

Then again, it’s not like his budget has ever stopped Madara before. 

First had been the life insurance policy. Exorbitant, really, for a single man with no living family - except for his younger brother. He just likes to be _prepared._

The sale of his house was a logical step, he had assured Izuna, in his plans to downsize in his life. It’s nothing to worry about.

Then was actually _finding_ the hitman. Thankfully, he’d located Tobirama Senju without too much difficulty. Senju is reliable (and accepted anonymous payment from an anonymous source), so it had been a no-brainer. He hadn’t even demanded to meet Madara in person. The payment is submitted (his entire retirement fund, all of his savings, money made from selling his assets - everything). 

The final thing is simple: wait.

Madara paces in front of the couch of his “studio” apartment, trying to ignore the mewling of his cat from the bedroom. He checks his watch, chewing on his lip, then sinks onto his uncomfortable couch. He reaches for his glass of wine (a rather cheap chardonnay), taking a deep sip.

He’s already in a tuxedo suitable for the funeral. His hair is tied back to keep blood out of it. Really, he should’ve gotten a discount for how easy this job is.

A cat toy jingles as it rolls across the ugly tile floor, and he smiles. “You’re late, Senju.”

Tobirama pauses, raising a brow. “Excuse me?” Nevermind that he’d made a silly mistake with the cat toy. This is going to be simple no matter what, frankly. He’s just not exactly used to being _expected._

“I paid a lot of money for you,” Madara says, emptying his wine glass with one last gulp. 

“What?” Tobirama stares. It’s almost as if the man has hired a prostitute.

“What, 150,000 isn’t enough for you? It’s not like I’m a difficult target.” Madara sets the wine glass down and wipes his lips, crossing his legs and sneering. 

Tobirama swallows. He feels his cheeks heating up a little. “You’re Madara Uchiha, correct?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest. He wasn’t aware that his target was this, for lack of a better term, _hot._ The photos on social media were evidently deceptive.

“Yes,” Madara’s grin only grows. “You brought a knife like I requested, right? I know it’s a bit messy, but I’d rather you not shoot me.” He’s acting as if this is normal. Tobirama doesn’t share the sentiment.

“ _You_ requested?” is his incredulous response. 

The Uchiha stands now, tapping his foot impatiently. He’s even wearing dress shoes, Tobirama realizes vaguely. “I didn’t expect a conversation, you know, or I wouldn’t have gotten so sloshed.” His cheeks are red and his lips are pressed into a pout as he glares at Tobirama (who is just tall enough to make that glaring _up_ at him).

Slowly, Tobirama draws out the hunting knife he’d brought, though he seems hesitant. “You don’t seem all that drunk,” he comments, stepping closer to Madara. The other man stumbles forward a bit (proving him quite wrong about the drunkenness), and Tobirama reaches out with his free hand to steady him. He doesn’t relinquish his hold on Madara’s arm. “You speak as if you hired me, but I’m here to kill you. Explain.”

Madara looks into the Senju’s eyes and his cheeks redden further. “Let go of me,” he grumbles half-heartedly, though it’s clear he doesn’t really mind the contact. “I don’t owe you any explanation. I paid you - do your job! This is taking longer than I expected, and if you don’t hurry up, I'm going to start having _feelings._ Dreadful, those are.”

Tobirama’s grip tightens when Madara attempts to squirm away. “Explain,” he demands once more. 

“ _Ow,_ ” Madara hisses, trying to pull away again. “Why do you even need an explanation?” he asks in response, and admittedly this is a fair point.

“If you _did_ hire me, it would’ve been far less expensive for you to just kill _yourself_ , you know,” says Tobirama, loosening his grip just a bit. The man’s pained expression had incited... _guilt,_ of all things. How unprofessional. 

“I suppose, but then you wouldn’t be here and making easy money, so why are you complaining?” Madara is glaring again, though he stops trying to get away. He’s a bit too dizzy for that anyhow. “I do wish you’d get on with the actual killing bit - what was your name again? Ah - Tobirama?”

“Yes - and that doesn’t explain your reasoning. Don’t try to change the subject.”

“What can I say, I’m just a good Samaritan who wanted to give back to the community even in death.” If Madara is being sarcastic, Tobirama can’t tell.

“Oh?”

Madara rolls his eyes. “I don’t mean that, you dolt. I want to die, I want my family to get the insurance payout, I want you to take that knife and slit my throat. Will you _please_ hurry up already?” He sways on his feet but at last manages to tear himself away from Tobirama’s grip. He slumps back down onto the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ignore me if I cry,” he mutters. “I’m miserable when I’m drunk, and you’re taking long enough for me to get there.”

“If you want this, then why would you cry about it?” Tobirama asks, standing in front of Madara and crossing his arms again. 

“That’s an incredibly stupid question,” Madara says. “I’m so depressed that I _hired you to kill me,_ and you’re asking me why I would cry about that.” As if on queue, some tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He sniffles.

Tobirama sets the knife down on the coffee table, then sits next to Madara on the couch. “You really did hire me?” he asks. “You thought your life was worth $150,000?”

“Obviously!” Madara crosses his arms and turns away, puffing his cheeks.

“You’re worth more than that.” Tobirama isn’t certain why he says it, but he does. He’s starting to look like a real sap.

“What, you want more money now?” the Uchiha clenches his fingers into fists. “I don’t have much left. I sold everything. I can give you what’s in my wallet, I guess-”

The Senju can’t help but cringe. “That’s not what I meant,” he replies, shaking his head. 

“You barely know me,” Madara mutters, sniffling again. His cheeks are a bit redder with the comment, though. “Trust me, I’m not worth more than a million dollar insurance payout. My little brother will be sad, but he’ll get over it.” He wipes the tears from his eyes, though more well up quickly. 

Tobirama remains silent for a moment, then reaches over to pick the knife again. Madara glances over hopefully, but is disappointed when the Senju just sheathes it. “Perhaps I’ll kill you when you’re sober,” he says. The _little brother_ comment has stayed his hand, he tells himself (that certainly is part of it, but there’s probably a little more to it). 

“I sold off my _house_ for this. I emptied my retirement fund for this!” Madara throws his hands in the air. “And you’re telling me you _might_ do the job I paid you for?!”

“You what?” Tobirama’s eyes are wide. “You really…” he trails off and runs a hand through his hair. He’s not supposed to get soft - he’s not supposed to feel anything for his targets, really, but this man is…

Well, this man is now sobbing into his hands and blubbering about how he just _really wants to die._ Tobirama finds that he just can’t fulfill that wish.

Instead, he wraps his arms around Madara and gives him a rather awkward hug. “I’m not going to kill you,” he says, but this obviously does not console him. In fact, it does quite the opposite.

“You bastard, I _want you to!_ ” Madara hisses, trying to push Tobirama away. He doesn’t relinquish his hold, trying to be comforting, but his stony expression probably isn’t helping.

“I know you do,” he says.

Madara’s shoulders slump and he sniffles again, his lower lip quivering and his eyes shiny with tears. “I paid you to. I did _everything_ to pay you to,” he says, voice soft. He sighs. “And I’m sitting here sobbing into the arms of a contracted killer. I should _not_ have had that wine.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Tobirama says, unable to help his amused smile. Admittedly, Madara is kind of...well, perhaps cute isn’t the right word, but it’s what pops into his mind.

“This is rather embarrassing.”

“Oh, probably.”

“You’re not supposed to _agree_ ,” the professor complains. Tobirama relaxes his hold now that the man seems to have calmed down. 

“Sorry.” He shrugs. “I’m not very good at this stuff, and I wasn’t exactly prepared for it.” He pauses for a moment then asks, “You okay?”

Madara’s gaze flickers to the abandoned knife on the coffee table, licking his lips. “Oh, yes. I’m doing _grand,_ ” he says, leaning forward. He’s pretty sure Tobirama is going to believe him (though he’s being quite sarcastic).

“Maybe you should get to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” is Madara’s curt response.

Tobirama glances at his _prominent_ eyebags and snorts. “Right.”

The Uchiha grits his teeth and pushes the other man away, reaching out for the knife at the same time. As if Tobirama wouldn’t notice. Madara attempts to unsheathe it quickly, but the Senju’s hands are on top of his. 

“You’re insufferable,” the professor grumbles, relinquishing his hold on the weapon. His shoulders slump as he accepts his defeat. Whether he likes it or not, he’s not dying tonight. As he looks up at Tobirama’s face (which is currently screwed up into what he thinks is concern), he thinks perhaps it’s not so bad. At least he’s attractive. Or maybe that’s the alcohol talking. He’ll figure it out tomorrow. His eyelids droop a bit - alcohol has always made him sleepy, and maybe he did overindulge.

Tobirama’s lips curve into a smile, his expression softening. “Perhaps you should get some rest,” he suggests once more. “Would you like company?”

“The bedroom is that way,” Madara says, flapping one of his hands in that general direction. “Take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not taking your bed-”

Madara is glaring again, his lips pursed. “You’re stupid!” he replies. “You won’t even do your job, so don’t tell _me_ that _I’m_ stupid, you ass!” The magic moment from before has passed. Now he’s just pissed off again. “Fine! Sleep on the couch then. See if I care.” He pushes Tobirama away and stands on unsteady feet. “I imagine I’ll have some choice words for you in the morning. For now I’m too exhausted and pissed off to articulate them properly.”

“You seem pretty poignant to me,” is the assassin’s snide reply. Madara grits his teeth, shoulders tensed and hands clenched into fists. 

“Bastard.”

Tobirama just laughs as the smaller man stalks off to his bedroom, nearly tripping on one of the cat toys haphazardly spread across the floor.

  
  
  



	2. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara is flustered and bad at pretending he hates Tobirama. Tobirama, on the other hand, is quite unfazed and kind of amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took SO long to update this fic! I wasn't sure people would like it in the first place - but hey, ya'll spoke, and I have plenty of inspiration, so here we go! I do apologize for this chapter being a bit shorter, I wanted to get something posted :)

Tobirama wakes up to the smell of eggs cooking.

Ah. Right. He’d fallen asleep at Madara’s house.

There’s a blanket on him that he did not put there last night. 

His cheeks heat up.  _ Hm. _

“Good morning, asshole,” he hears, and he sits up with a brow raised.

“What?”

“Good morning,  _ asshole! _ ” Madara repeats, and Tobirama snorts and stands up.

“Not a morning person?”

“Not a ‘being alive despite hiring a hitman to kill me’ kind of person,” is the snide reply, but Tobirama still finds a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of water waiting for him on the table. 

“Mm,” Tobirama hums and sits down in front of the meal placed out for him, not waiting to begin stuffing his face. Sue him - he’s hungry.

Madara watches with a bored expression. “I take it you still have no plans on you know, doing your job?”

Tobirama pauses, some scrambled egg falling from his mouth onto the plate. He swallows, offering a hapless shrug. “You’re cute. I’d rather not kill you.”

Madara sputters. “W-What?! I am not- don’t - that’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t think so,” is the would-be-assassin’s smooth response as he sips his water. 

In his defense, Madara hasn’t even changed out of the suit he’d worn last night. He hasn’t made any effort to look less appealing - in fact, the bed head look is kind of charming on him.

“I hate you,” is Madara’s rather lame response. He sighs and sinks into the cheap plastic chair across from his ‘guest,’ taking a drink from his own glass of water. 

“No you don’t. Not eating?” Tobirama asks, raising a brow.

“No.”

“You probably should, you look a little skinny-”

“The fuck, Senju?”

Tobirama snorts, finishing the last few bites of egg before replying. “I just think you should eat.”

Madara rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his water. “Yes, well, I just think you’re an asshole.”

“As you’ve said. Multiple times. You still haven’t kicked me out though.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure me telling you to leave would work.”

“Fair point. It wouldn’t.” Tobirama flashes him a cheeky grin, and Madara just glares.

“Why are you still here, anyway?”

“I was going to ask if you’d like to go to dinner.” 

Despite himself, Madara’s cheeks flush. He crosses his arms, refusing to look at him. “...So you’re going to take my money, refuse to kill me, then ask me on a date? Let me guess, you want me to pay for it-”

“Don’t be silly,” Tobirama says, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm. “I wired your money back to you after you threw a hissy fit and drunkenly went to bed, and I fully intend to buy you dinner tonight.”

“Excuse me-” Madara groans and throws his head back in exasperation. “I don’t even know where to start here, so first thing’s first: I did  _ not  _ throw a hissy fit-”

“You kind of did.”

“Oh shut up!” The professor wads up a napkin and throws it at Tobirama’s head. It flies past him and lands on the ground.

Well. At least his cat will enjoy it.

“You were saying?” Tobirama is still smirking.

“Again, I did  _ not  _ throw a hissy fit.” Madara puffs his cheeks out in a pout then clasps his hands together on the table. “Moving on. What’s to stop me from just, you know, hiring an assassin who will actually do their job?”

Tobirama snorts. “The fact that I’ve already blacklisted you, and no one else will accept the job.”

Madara really is ready to scream in frustration just then, but his cat (creatively named Kitty) has jumped up on the table.

He sits back in his chair. Kitty is a ferocious little beast, after all - surely she’s about to scratch Tobirama’s stupid eyeballs out-

“Your cat is almost as cute as you,” Tobirama comments as he rubs one of Kitty’s cheeks, the cat already purring loudly and rubbing against his hand.

“What my cat is is a  _ traitor, _ ” Madara hisses, reaching out to lightly swat at his cat and shoo her off the table.

Kitty, the little traitor herself, simply clambers into Tobirama’s lap.

Tobirama laughs. “Come on now, I’ve even got the seal of approval from your cat! Can’t I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Fine,” Madara acquiesces at last, though he’s certainly pouting again. Why not, after all? Tobirama is attractive, and despite all the teasing, hasn’t been the  _ worst  _ conversationalist.

Besides. If he’s going to have to be alive, he may as well enjoy a free dinner.

Tobirama’s smile softens. “Excellent. I’ll be back at seven then.” He stands, gently setting Kitty on the ground. He leans down to give Madara a kiss on the cheek before exiting the apartment.

Madara turns bright red and he gulps, watching him leave. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asks, turning to his cat. She replies with a little mewl, rubbing against his legs.

* * *

Tobirama is true to his word. He shows up with a bouquet of flowers, of all things, and Madara is  _ incredibly  _ flustered when he opens the door. 

“I didn’t expect those,” he mumbles as he takes them, cheeks already warm. 

“That was kind of the point,” is Tobirama’s reply. Madara did finally change out of the suit - now he’s wearing a blue button up and jeans, and Tobirama certainly appreciates it.

“Well, thanks,” the professor grumbles half-heartedly. He ducks back inside briefly to stick the flowers in a vase before returning to Tobirama’s side. “You look nice tonight,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hope I’m dressed appropriately.”

“You dressed down so that I wouldn’t take you somewhere expensive,” Tobirama says, grinning. “But you’re still cute.”

“Have I mentioned I hate you?”

“That’s why you agreed to go on a date with me, right?”

Madara huffs and elbows Tobirama in the side. “Shut up.”

Tobirama obliges, though his shit-eating smile does dampen the victory somewhat.

* * *

Madara glares at his plate of pasta.

The cheapest thing on the damn menu was still $25. 

Tobirama finds his pout rather charming, really.

“You never told me your cat’s name,” the assassin points out, an easy smile on his face.

“Her name is Kitty,” Madara mumbles through his mouthful of penne. Who cares about manners when you may or may not be trying to convince your date to go through with murdering you, after all? Yes, he knows the name is stupid. No, he does not care.

Tobirama snorts, covering his mouth to prevent his mouthful of lobster from falling onto the table. “Awfully creative for an art professor.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly.”

Madara feels his cheeks heating up again. Tobirama certainly knows how to push his buttons. He really hadn’t thought he was so easy to read. Still, as infuriating as Tobirama is, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. The banter is...fun.

Tobirama is clever, and handsome, and shockingly good company.

**Fuck.** This really complicates things. This was NOT part of his plans.

“You’re staring.” Tobirama says, shoveling in a mouthful of potatoes. 

“I’m merely observing your god awful table manners,” the professor replies, still recovering from the last comment. He wipes at his mouth with a napkin for effect, but Tobirama just laughs.

“Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! I believe you!”

“You’re full of shit.”

Tobirama smirks. “I just know you won’t admit that you’re wildly enamored by me.”

Madara chokes on his mouthful of pasta. He lifts his napkin to spit it out, bristling with indignance. “I am not, you arrogant, impossible, bastard of a man!”

The assassin’s grin has not faded. “If it’s any consolation,” he says, leaning in a bit. “I find myself rather enamored by you as well.”

Ah. 

Madara’s tensed shoulders relax. He takes a sip of his glass of water. “I...suppose that does make me feel slightly better,” he admits. For the first time that evening he offers Tobirama a shy smile.

Tobirama cannot help but stare.

His heart flutters. 

_ Yes, he needs to get Madara to smile again. _


	3. Second Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara levels the playing field on their second date.
> 
> They also do some talking. Shocking, I know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter once again took SO long to update.
> 
> This chapter isn't super long again, I just wanted to get some content out since I finally had inspiration again. 
> 
> I hope you and your families are staying safe during this global pandemic, wherever you may be!

Tobirama waits the common courtesy week before asking Dr. Uchiha on another date.

He knocks on the now-familiar apartment door, bouquet of roses in hand. Cliche, but effective - and he’s told his assumption is correct by the delighted smile on Madara’s face when he opens the door.

“Senju,” the professor greets, quickly suppressing his smile and crossing his arms. “Thanks, they’re...nice,” he says, snatching up the bouquet and leaving the door open as he goes to the kitchen to deposit them in a vase.

“That’s a nice painting,” Tobirama comments, pointing up to the one currently hanging over Madara’s TV stand after walking inside. “Is it yours?”

“Mm,” Madara grunts in response, cheeks faintly pink. “I did it last week, figured I should liven this place up a bit if I’m going to be alive.”

“Good thinking,” Tobirama says, leaning on the kitchen wall. “I’m assuming you still want to be in charge of the location of our date this week?”

“Tch, is that even a question? If you want to date me, you’re going to need to meet me in the middle a little more. No showboating.”

Tobirama feigns hurt. “Why, professor - I’m shocked and offended you would imply that I was  _ showboating.  _ I was just trying to treat you to a nice dinner!”

“And I’ve never felt more out of place in my life,” is Madara’s flat response. “So we’re going where I want tonight, and  _ I’m  _ paying.”

The assassin raises a brow. “Oh?  _ You’re  _ paying?” He has a guess as to what sort of establishment they’ll be going to, given that Madara is wearing a pair of jeans covered in dried paint and a t-shirt. 

“Yes,” the professor snaps, puffing his cheeks and walking out into the hallway of the apartment building. “Come on, Senju - I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

Tobirama follow him out, shutting the door behind him. “Of course, Dr. Uchiha! Just lead the way.”

To hide his flushed cheeks, Madara turns away, speeding down the hallway. “As long as you can keep up!”

* * *

Tobirama supposes he shouldn’t be shocked as Madara holds open the door to a dubious looking diner for him. The professor wants to level the playing field, and make Tobirama a fish out of water as he had been at the fancy restaurant.

The grimace on Tobirama’s face as he enters the greasy spoon tells Madara that he’s succeeded. “This is my favorite place to eat,” he declares, and the assassin snorts.

“There’s no accounting for taste,” he comments, but Madara has already breezed past him to slide into a plastic red booth. Tobirama almost joins him, but his path is cut off by a brisk-paced young woman he assumes is a waitress.

“Good evening, Mr. Uchiha!” Said waitress sets a menu down in front of him cheerfully. “Want me to put in your usual order, or are you thinking of mixing it up?”

“Hi, Mikoto,” Madara smiles at her. “Hm, I might mix it up. In the meantime, could I have another menu for my date?”

She blinks, finally realizing Tobirama is standing there awkwardly, waiting for an opportunity to sit down. She smiles sheepishly and steps aside so that he can. “Of course! My apologies, I didn’t realize. Let me go get another one.” 

In the brief interim before her return, Tobirama grins at Madara and says, “I take it you don’t date often?”

“Not really.”

“Any particular reason why? You’re such a handsome man, it wouldn’t be difficult to score a date-”

“Here’s that second menu for you!” Mikoto interrupts, setting it down in front of the assassin. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Could I get my usual milkshake and a glass of water please?” Madara’s expression shifts from the glare he’d shot at Tobirama to a pleasant smile as he turns to her. “And I think I will be getting my regular meal.”

“Certainly!” She nods and she turns to Tobirama. “And for you?”

The Senju furrows his brows as his eyes sweep over the menu. “Could I get...uh…” he scratches his head. “A pepsi?”

“Of course! I’ll bring those drinks right over for you.” She flashes another smile and departs once more.

“I don’t just date for fun,” Madara says, returning to their conversation and crossing his arms, resting his elbows on the table. “Dating, sharing your life with someone - it’s not something I take lightly.” His cheeks burn a bit as he continues, glaring at the ground. “Besides, I’ve been planning on dying for quite awhile now. It didn’t feel fair to go on a date when that is my end goal.”

Tobirama raises a brow, unable to contain his smirk. “Ah, but I’m different?”

“Maybe I’m only agreeing to go on dates with you because I’m scared of you,” the professor retorts, but he’s met with a snort.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Tch-”

“One orange cream milkshake, a water, and a pepsi!” Mikoto sets the drinks down for them, interrupting once again (not that Madara is really complaining). “Are you ready to order, sir?” she asks, tilting her head expectantly at Tobirama.

He blinks. “Oh, um - yes. Yes...I am ready to order. Definitely.” He glances down at the menu, trying to ignore Madara’s amused hum as he already begins to sip his milkshake. “Could I get a cheeseburger and french fries, please?”

She nods, jotting down his order on her notepad. “Absolutely! I’ll go put your order right in.” She offers them another smile, her gaze lingering on Tobirama as she walks away.

“Back to me being special enough for you to go on a second date with?” Tobirama suggests, smirking again. Madara rolls his eyes and takes a drink of his milkshake.

“Not sure if I’d give you that much credit,” he says, staring down at the table and drumming his fingers against it. 

“Well, why else would you be agreeing to these dates?”

Madara sighs. “Listen, Tobir- Senju-”

“I’m listening, Dr. Uchiha.” He grins.

The professor scowls. “I don’t know why I agreed to a second date. I’m not sure how I’m feeling. I’m almost tempted to  _ get rid of the middleman _ , but then, I’m a coward.”

Tobirama’s expression softens and he reaches across the table to gently rest his hand over Madara’s. Maybe it’s time to lay off the teasing for now. “I’m sorry I kept pushing,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Madara looks down at their hands, unable to help his small smile. “Communication is important, and it’s probably best I told you that, yeah?”

“It’s alright to not know how you’re feeling. I know I’m kind of an asshole, but I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

Madara nods, taking another sip of his milkshake. “Maybe when we’re back at my apartment.”

Tobirama gives his hand a squeeze.  _ Progress. _

* * *

Madara isn’t certain how he ended up next to Tobirama on his dingy little couch, but he’s not complaining. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks. “I think I’m glad you didn’t do your job,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence.

Tobirama blinks, tilting his head. “Really? I was worried you were still…” he trails off. He doesn’t want to say it, really.

“I’m not magically  _ better _ , or anything,” the professor snaps. He exhales, trying to calm his voice. “I just...don’t think I really want to die, anymore. I scheduled a therapy appointment, called my brother, reconnected with a few friends I hadn’t meant to ghost.” He scoots a bit closer, draping one leg over his knee. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say, is thanks.”

“I didn’t expect that,” Tobirama admits. “But you’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you shut up and hug me,  _ Tobirama _ ?” Madara suggests, snorting and shifting as Tobirama gladly obliges, snaking his arms around his torso and tugging him close.

“Would you like to go on a third date?” the assassin asks, trying not to sound  _ too  _ pleased as Madara rests his head on his chest.

“Only if you’re prepared for me to not be one hundred percent better,” is the Uchiha’s soft response. “It’s going to take a lot of work for me. It would be nice to have someone there for me along the way, but I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to step away now.”

“You really think I want to walk away?” Tobirama gives him a small squeeze. “I don’t. I kinda figured you wouldn’t get instantly better. You hired me to kill you, after all - that was some serious commitment.” He wets his lips. “I don’t want to walk away. I quite like you, Madara.”

Madara feels his cheeks heating up again and is grateful that his face is hidden for now. “...In that case...I’d really enjoy a third date,” he says, wrapping his arms around Tobirama in return at last. “I think I like you too. That’s all I can manage for now, but...I quite enjoy your company, even if you are an insufferable asshole.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tobirama chuckles, his grin wide.

It’s going to take time - but they can make this work.


End file.
